


But I don't know if you'd like it

by MartyMiaMatt



Series: Walking the road that leads to you [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Body Positivity, Established Relationship, Introspection, M/M, Self Esteem Issues, a hint of power play, body image issues, characters are teenagers in a consensual relationship, dirty picture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 06:05:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11121393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MartyMiaMatt/pseuds/MartyMiaMatt
Summary: It was his own idea, after all.He’s the one who wanted to do something for Tsukki.Something to surprise him.





	But I don't know if you'd like it

**Author's Note:**

> My take on the "Obligatory Dirty Picture" fic trope.
> 
> A sequel of sorts to "When I look at you"  
> (https://archiveofourown.org/works/10953396), though it can be read separately.
> 
> I just really love my shy potato Yamaguchi and I wanted to show him struggling with self-esteem but eventually finding a way to feel confident and sexy.

Tadashi stands in the middle of his bedroom, barefoot, holding his cellphone in one hand.

He squares his shoulders, staring at the wall directly in front of him. He takes a few deep breaths.

He can do this. It’s not that difficult; no big deal.

It’s not like anyone’s pressuring him, either… if he wanted to, he could always weasel out at any moment with no consequence. It was his own idea, after all.

He’s the one who wanted to do something for Tsukki. Something to surprise him.

 

He grips the phone tighter, glances at the lockscreen image. It’s a piece of the view of the gym’s courtyard where he, Kei and the others sometimes go practice when the weather is nice.

It’s not a very good picture, because he’s not that great at taking them; but there’s green grass and white clouds against a bright blue sky, and a slice of the volley net. Tadashi likes that picture.

He remembers the spring afternoon when he took it, a few months ago, one day when he and Tsukishima went alone. It was _before_ … before they became a… a couple.

The idea, that word, _couple,_ sends a tingling sensation to his face, spreading a fiery blush on his cheeks.

Back to the thing that’s currently occupying most of his thoughts, making him worry at his bottom lip with his teeth.

 _Picture._ Right.

Tadashi is currently on the verge of a nervous breakdown because he’s decided to take a _dirty_ picture of himself and send it to Tsukki.

There is one particularly significant detail: he has never done such a thing.

 

He has sent pictures of himself to Tsukishima before, that’s not the issue.

Just not… _like that._

They send each other selfies, sometimes, on the rare occasions when they’re not studying together or they’re in different places. One will text the other to ask how what he’s doing, and the other will sometimes reply with a picture to demonstrate.

It’s silly, unimportant things, mostly; like the half-moon-shaped burn mark on the palm of Tadashi’s hand after he tried to cook curry rice by himself, or a close-up of Kei’s sleepy face and extremely unkempt hair, one morning when Ukai-san forced the team to wake up at five for extra training.

Tadashi smiles a little at the memory. He secretly thought that picture was cute, even though Kei probably didn’t mean for it to be, and he has it saved in his phone.

About that _other_ type of pictures, though…

Yamaguchi knows, in theory, about the photos that people send to each other when they’re in a relationship, or, for example, on those dating sites. In fact, long before he and Tsukki got together, one time the two of them downloaded one of those apps.

It was Tadashi who got uncharacteristically bold that time, and suggested it. Just for a laugh, just to try it out and see what the fuss was all about, he’d said.

He had challenged Tsukishima to create a profile and Tsukishima had grumbled about it a little, but at last he’d yielded. They’d spent a whole afternoon chatting with strangers and coming up with increasingly ridiculous lies about their virtual persona.

Many of the people there messaged them first, and a few of them sent pictures of themselves (or at least so they claimed). Some were almost _innocuous,_ even intriguing: a cleavage in a nice shirt, a muscular chest with defined abs and a too-orange tan.

Others were definitely more… revealing, enough to send Tsukishima and Yamaguchi into a frenzy of hysterical laughter, the two of them red-faced and glancing furtively at each other to study the other’s reaction.  

So, yeah. He knows what to do, technically; but he really wants to get this right, and his hands won’t stop shaking and sweating.

Tadashi looks down at his slender legs and gulps down a big sip of air.

 

Finally, he sighs and takes a few steps towards the mirror hanging on the wall in front of him, next to his unmade bed.

It’s a rectangular mirror with a plain wooden frame that’s painted black. It’s nearly a full-figure one, which Tadashi has always found a little intimidating; and there he is, standing awkwardly in the hot room in his boxers and a plain white t-shirt.

He’s overthinking this, isn’t he…? How hard can it be? All he has to do is decide for a pose and just take the picture. If it really doesn’t work, he can delete it and put his phone away and never think about this idea again.

He needs to calm down.

Yamaguchi closes his eyes for a moment, shifting the weight of his legs back and forth on his heels, and tries to relax.

 

He thinks about Tsukishima, about Kei, _Tsukki._ To him, he’s been _Tsukki_ for a very long time.

Tadashi likes that he can call him that and Kei doesn’t protest, doesn’t react with irritation the way he does when others attempt to use it.

Tadashi started calling him that when they were younger. At first Tsukishima didn’t like the nickname; but it grew on him, eventually, he went from grudgingly tolerating it to actually appreciating it at least a little, even though of course Tsukishima never admitted it.

The closer he ever got was that one time when he simply told Tadashi “It’s different when it’s _you”_ as an explanation, after Tadashi heard him coldly make a cutting remark to another classmate who had tried calling him that way.

Tadashi breathes and keeps thinking about Tsukishima, about what he’s like.

About the way his sand-colored hair sticks to his forehead and to the shells of his ears when it’s wet after a shower; about the way his glasses fog up when he’s drinking hot tea, holding the cup with his slender, dexterous fingers. About his little smile when he makes a particularly clever joke and he glances at him knowing that Tadashi will be the first to laugh.

About the delicious little way his nose and his cheeks redden when they’re walking side by side on the way to school or on the way home, and their hands accidentally touch. Even now, after all this time.

Tsukishima will often mutter something about Tadashi walking too slowly, or he’ll just stare straight ahead and pretend not to notice; but he’s often the first to let his fingers slip into the spaces between Tadashi’s own, grabbing his hand and holding tight onto it.

It makes Tadashi want to kiss him every time.

Tsukishima is softer to him, these days, soft in a way that he isn’t with others.

He deserves something nice in return, even though Tadashi knows that Kei wouldn’t expect this of him, that he probably wouldn’t _ask_.

 

Yamaguchi shakes his head. He raises his phone in front of his face with a trembling hand.

He looks at his reflection and he rotates his head a bit to the left, then lifts his chin upwards, trying to capture a better angle.

The room is dark. Thin blades of sunlight peek through the blinds on his window. In the lazy, mid-July afternoon, he’s the only one in the house; but he still locked his bedroom’s door, just to be safe.

His olive skin is still somewhat pale, although it’s rapidly catching a more golden shade because of the longer hours he’s spending outside. Under his raised eyebrows, his eyes are lucid, and they look a little puzzled. There are dark greyish circles under his eyes that seem more pronounced than yesterday.

He doesn’t _feel_ very _seductive._ He fumbles with the zooming key, taking a few tentative snaps of his face from the collarbone up.

Tadashi looks at the photos, frowning. They’re grainy, a bit blurry; definitely not his most flattering portraits.

He realizes that he’s sweating and that he’s feeling impossibly hot… maybe he should take his shirt off.

Right. That’s exactly what he’ll do.

He lays the phone face down on the bed. Nibbling on his bottom lip, he grabs the hem of his t-shirt with both hands and wriggles out of it, almost losing his balance in the process. He usually isn’t this clumsy, but his legs feel even more unsteady than before, heavy as if someone had been slowly filling them with lead.

Yamaguchi hesitates for a moment, then he curses under his breath. To hell with it, might as well go all the way now that he’s there.

He takes off his shorts too, and goes back to the mirror.

 

Now he’s naked, except for a pair of plain black, cotton boxers.

Tadashi studies himself again. With the tip of his tongue peeking from the left corner of his mouth, he opens the phone’s camera app again.

He straightens his back and moves closer to the mirror, fighting against the instinctive uneasiness he feels.

He parts his thighs and stands steady on his feet.

He tries to look at himself through Tsukki’s eyes, tries to see what Tsukishima sees in him. Tsukishima has seen him naked before. Tsukishima _likes_ his body, even when Yamaguchi does not.

Honestly… okay, maybe it’s not that bad. He breathes in, breathes out.

He’s grown a few centimeters taller in the last few months, and he’s quite proud of it. His legs are long and thin, but there is strength in his thighs and in his calves, he sees it in the way muscles and tendons tense up under the skin with every slight movement.

His arms are slender but they’re strong too, Tadashi knows; they can hit powerful serves that are getting better and better every day, and they can hug Tsukki and sometimes he can use that strength to push him down and crawl on top of him and leave the both of them breathless with a hard kiss…

Tadashi smiles a little.

His abdomen is flat, his hips sharp. He tugs down the fabric band of his underwear until a glimpse of curly hair peeks out. Tsukki likes to kiss and bite softly there, sometimes, when they’re lying on one or the other’s bed and Tsukki is resting his head on the lower side of his belly.

The thought makes something flip inside his stomach. Tadashi’s fingers brush against the black cotton.

He cups his crotch with his free hand, then experimentally starts to rub and tease through his boxers.

He spreads his legs even more.

His fingers slip inside, they glide over hot, naked skin.

He pants. His knees are getting weaker now, but he resists, steading himself.

He likes standing this way, he thinks. He feels almost – powerful. Another memory flashes through his head – it’s the darkness pooling inside Kei’s eyes when he takes off his glasses and kneels at his feet, face up between Tadashi’s thighs.

Impulsively, Tadashi yanks down his boxers completely and lets them fall down to his feet.

His hardening dick twitches in his hand.

 

He licks his lips.

He makes sure to capture his whole body in the frame of the phone’s screen.

He takes one, two, three, four pictures.

 

Still breathing heavily in the silence, he steps out of his underwear, which he leaves crumpled up in a bundle on the floor.

The hand he’s used to touch himself is a bit wet and sticky.

He’s beginning to feel that familiar languor, that enveloping, liquid sensation that prickles at the skin in the back of his knees and makes his body feel hot, heavy, unsatisfied.

He wants to touch himself more, all of a sudden he wants it a lot harder than before. The vague urge, now awakened, is becoming stronger with every moment.

He’d like it even better if Tsukishima were there with him.

Yamaguchi climbs back on his bed and lies down on his back.

Another picture?

Yeah, why not.

This time, first he grips the base of his cock and arches his back, letting his head sink into the mattress.

He starts stroking himself again, a moan pressing from inside his mouth against his lips.

He shuts his eyes and touches himself harder and faster, short, sharp movements and an uneven rhythm. It’s completely unlike the way Tsukishima touches him. It’s the way Yamaguchi did it when they weren’t together yet, when he thought he could never have him.

It’s the rough, dirty way he still does it sometimes, on certain nights, when Tsukki isn’t there and they haven’t been together alone for a while and his frustration and _yearning_ become too much to bear…

Tadashi stops himself right on the verge of climax.

His whole body seems to tremble and yell in protest, dissatisfaction burning under his skin.

 

He raises the arm holding his phone over his head and takes another selfie.

 

 

He drops his arm along his side and lets out a small laugh, chest heaving.

He still wants to come, but he can deal with that later. In fact, he might… he might ask for Tsukki’s help, maybe.

He probes around the mattress to find his phone, which has fallen a few inches away from the edge of the bed. He grabs it and pulls it closer to his face to take a look at the photos.

His cheeks burn in embarrassment, but… this isn’t too bad.

It’s not bad at all, actually. He finds that he’s surprisingly comfortable with what he sees, or at least much less uncomfortable than he feared.

He’s taken several, but he decides to keep two.

The first is one of those he took standing in front of the mirror.

His right knee is a little bent; the muscles in his abdomen are clenched, the shadows creating darker lines on his ribs. He can make out the pattern of freckles and soft, thin dark hairs on his thighs and legs, and he usually feels embarrassed about them, but this time he finds that he likes how they look.

His cock is half-covered by his hand: a glimpse of darker, reddened skin between his fingers.

The second picture is the one he took on the bed.

His dark brown hair is spread out around his head. His face is turned a bit to the right side, his neck tensed up, throat and collarbone exposed, as if to invite a kiss or a bite.

His cheeks are flushed, his eyes half-lidded. His lips are parted, with a dart of pink tongue peeking out between his teeth.

The tip of his half-hard penis is red and glistening between his open legs.

It doesn’t even look as if he took that picture himself – rather, it could’ve been taken by a lover, taking Tadashi by surprise as he woke up from his sleep.

Tadashi doesn’t think of himself as good-looking, but he thinks he’s never looked better.

 

He looks at the time. His parents shouldn’t be back before another hour; he still has time.

Okay, now comes the really difficult part.

Holding his breath, he opens the last chat he’s had with Tsukki.

His boyfriend is online. Good.

Tapping on the screen with suddenly sweaty fingers, he writes:

_Hey, Tsukki. Do u have a moment?_

He waits.

A few moments later, the reply:

_… Yes. Why?_

Oh no, his heart is racing again. He needs to stay calm. He didn’t go through all the effort of taking the pictures to just give up at the last moment, right?

He answers:

_Got to show u something._ _But you need to be alone._

Okay, this… this should let Tsukishima know that there’s something unusual, something that needs his attention.

A few moments pass, in which Yamaguchi squirms uncomfortably on the bed, still naked and sweating, until another message arrives:

_Ok. I am now. What is it?_

He can’t be sure without seeing Tsukishima’s face, but he thinks he can feel the subtle curiosity showing through the written words.

Yamaguchi takes in one final deep breath, before he uploads the two pictures.

He captions the one on the bed with a simple phrase: _Gift for u._

He doesn’t allow himself to think about it any longer, and presses send.

 

It feels as if the time without a reply is never going to end.

Okay. He can fully PANIC now.

Tsukki is still online, but he isn’t writing.

Yamaguchi’s heart beats so fast that he thinks he’s going to die right there.

What if… he didn’t like them?

It’s stupid, he knows. Tsukishima _likes_ him, he reminds himself, trying to reassure himself. Everything’s going to be fine. He’s just surprised, probably, which is what Tadashi wanted in the first place, right…?

 

The phone buzzes.

He stares at the display.

First, one message:

_Tadashi._

(He used his birth name!)

Another one, in fast sequence:

_You should have WARNED me._

_You have no idea how amazing you look._

_Beautiful._

Yamaguchi relaxes, smiling against the back of his hand that he’s been pressing against his mouth to stifle a potential terrified yell in case of a negative reaction.

No, of course not. It was stupid of him to worry.

He nibbles at his knuckles.

His body is flooded with relief and warm happiness and new excitement all at once.

He’s about to reply, when another message arrives:

_You look like you could use my help. Want it?_

 

Tadashi blushes hard.

He jumps up in a sitting position, clutching his phone between both hands.

 _Yes, Tsukki. Please,_ he types.

 

Silence.

He waits.

 

Buzz.

 

When he reads, he can imagine the measured, self-imposed calmness, the hint of sharpness in Tsukishima’s words, as if his boyfriend were whispering in his ear.

It’s just a single line but it has the power to send shivers down Yamaguchi’s spine and set his body ablaze.

 

 _Good,_ is Kei’s reply. _Tell me what you need._

**Author's Note:**

> ... I apologize profusely for the cliff-hanger. Please don't hate me.
> 
> (Also, I think I went a little OOC with Tsukishima's reaction because I really had no idea how to make him respond while keeping him in character. He's probably a lot less collected than he seems through text, I can tell you that.)


End file.
